The Gender War (The Gender Game #4)(28)

“Henrik!” Owen replied, taking a step back. “I have to tell you something! There’s information you need to know before you complete this mission.”

Again, there was a pause. This one stretched out for much longer, and every second that ticked by, I expected to hear the gunshot that would end Owen’s life.

“What’s the information?” came a feminine voice I recognized from my time in the Liberators’ facility.

I looked at Violet, and she mouthed “I told you, it’s Amber!” at me. I turned back to Owen, keeping my eyes on him through the doorway. He seemed calm, but from this angle, I could see the trickle of sweat rolling down his forehead and past his cheeks.

“Desmond is using the Liberators on behalf of Queen Elena,” he said, his voice flat and even. “She is using you to take out the king, so that Elena can have grounds to come in and take control of Patrus.”

“That’s ridiculous, Owen,” Amber started, but Henrik quickly overrode her.

“How do you know this, son?” he grated, his voice stern and demanding.

Owen gave me a pleading look, and I nodded, sucking in a deep breath before stepping into the hallway.

Amber was standing at the other end, her gun lowered but still tight to her shoulder. Henrik was next to her, but his gun was resting against his hip and pointed upward. As soon as I appeared, Amber lifted the gun up a fraction, her violet eyes narrowing in hatred.

“Traitor,” she hissed, her eyes flicking to Owen. I held my gun on her. I didn’t want to fire it, but if she pulled the trigger, I was willing to end her.

Henrik grabbed the stock of her gun and pushed it down. “Give them a chance,” he ordered.

Amber looked up at him in shock, then outrage, but she backed down, letting the muzzle of the gun swing back toward the floor.

Owen took a step forward, his voice pleading. “Amber, you’ve known me for a long time. Have I ever lied to you?”

Her mouth tightened, but she shook her head at him. “You’re standing by his side?” she asked finally, her words dripping with disdain and fury.

“Amber, you know Viggo has done nothing but help since his surgery. He got back on his feet and found a way to reach the boys—you think a spy would volunteer for that? He devoted every hour of every day to them. He worked longer and harder than anybody else who volunteered to do it. He was tireless, patient, fair, and kind to them. So don’t you dare buy into that bull that Desmond tried to sell you on.”

By the end of his speech, Owen was practically seething, and I had to blink several times at how vehemently he had defended me, in spite of my rudeness toward him. It was… enough to make me start to respect the man. A part of me was disappointed—if he survived this encounter in the hallway, I couldn’t be a ruthless jerk to him anymore.

Oh well. It would make Violet happy, and Owen had clearly earned it.

Amber looked up at the ceiling for a moment, and then shook her head. “How do you know?” she asked finally. “About Desmond—about using us—how do you know?”

“I heard her, Amber. I was using one of the suits, and I heard her say it. She’s been using us. She… she used me.” Owen paused, shaking his head in melancholy, as if he still couldn’t believe the sudden change of events. It was clear he was still reeling from the betrayal—I could only imagine how much it stung. “I don’t know if she planned for me to get caught, but the bombing was designed to fail. Elena already knew it was coming, because she was going to use it to gain public support from Matrians to support her aggression toward Patrus.”

Amber was shaking her head, her disbelief evident. “You’re wrong,” she stated, as if it were fact. But beside her, Henrik looked doubtful.

“He’s not,” I said from behind Owen, moving up next to him. I lowered my gun, hoping that even if Amber got angry enough to fire, she wouldn’t fire on a non-threatening man. “We’ve been played, Amber. The bomb was real, but poorly constructed, with more than enough time to defuse it.”

“You’re spies,” she said insistently. “Patrian ones, Matrian ones—it doesn’t matter. You’ll say anything to try to stop us.”

I heard something from the doorway, and I was surprised to see that it was Tim. He pushed past Violet, then Owen and myself, his eyes twin silver flames of determination. I knew that look by now. It meant something big was about to happen.

“Not spy,” he growled at her, and Amber took a step back, her eyes widening in surprise. “Desmond bad—wants to use us boys. Like puppets.” The last word he spat, as if saying it left a disgusting taste in his mouth. “You help her… you’re bad too.”

Henrik looked at Tim, and then back to Amber. Suddenly, Ms. Dale called out from her small room. “I don’t know what’s happening on your end, but someone’s trying to get through in here,” she said. “Can they make them stand down? They better, or I’ll fire through the door.”

I turned to relay the message to Henrik, only to discover Henrik had heard most of it, judging by the disapproving way he was looking at Amber. “You ordered Quinn to continue with the mission?” he barked, and Amber flinched, but didn’t look apologetic in the slightest.

“It’s the mission,” she retorted defensively, and he shook his head. I watched him press a thin black fabric to his neck and mouth a few words through the subvocalizer. I couldn’t hear anything—it was a function of the subvocalizers—but I understood the gist of it. He was ordering Quinn to stand down.